It Ist Not Terrible

Also, you have laughed in different ways,
And diluted yourself to the meat,
And slept on razor edges;
You have been an island passed by, barren,
The beacon not so much as looked at.

You have measured up to despondency
And your will to make the dawn,
You bury as your last dark word,
Stimulated by pride to penetrate the eminence
That released your sky like a thread of rain.

Without emotion, being, wish, or lust,
Without whim or caprice, yet you rememeber that you live
In ghosts, and urge the physical fight,
Body against body,
Solvent to the madness of unified nights,
And if you burn, it is merely the fault of the wind….

Traducción
Mark Leonard Melcher